


stars exploding, we'll be fireproof

by aliceinacoma



Category: To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: College, Long-Distance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 04:23:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18513826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceinacoma/pseuds/aliceinacoma
Summary: Lara Jean and Peter take on college.





	stars exploding, we'll be fireproof

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Troye Sivan's "YOUTH."

The last glimpse she gets of Peter Kavinsky is him in a gray hoodie, standing in her driveway as her dad pulls out. The 6 a.m. sun frames him like some kind of heavenly being, and well, Lara Jean's not one to argue with the universe, especially not about this. She stares at him until he's a dot on the horizon, and then longer because forget what Margot says about not being the girl crying in her dorm room about some boy. She will cry if she wants, and she won't if she wants, too. Either way, she's taking Peter with her to college. 

Metaphorically speaking, anyway. 

And who says that a girl can't enjoy the college experience and miss her long-distance boyfriend? 

She's ready to find out. 

\--

Orientation week is such a flurry of class registrations, freshman mixers, and attempts to understand proper navigation of the cafeteria that Lara Jean almost forgets to breathe. By the time Sunday night rolls around, and she's laying out the perfect First Day of School outfit, she's ready for a Korean face mask and some Night-Night tea. 

Her phone buzzes on the bed next to her, Peter's self-assured face popping up on her screen. She's quick to answer - amongst all the chaos of the past week, she hasn't spoken to him in three days, which at eighteen in a first relationship, might be years. 

"Hey!" she greets him brightly, garnering a glare from her roommate, Jenna, who's reading on her bed. Lara Jean smiles guiltily and grabs her keys to step out into the hall. She and Lara Jean haven't exactly 'clicked' yet. She's shy, Lara Jean thinks, which is understandable, but it's hard to find an angle in with someone like that. She'd tried talking to her about some of her books, but Jenna barely answered Lara Jean's questions. 

"Finally!" Peter sighs on the other end of the phone. "It's been ages. What, you go off to college and get yourself a new boyfriend?" 

"Yep," she says somberly. "He's tall and handsome and, guess what, he also plays lacrosse!" 

Peter groans in mock-despair, and Lara Jean giggles. It's nice to know he's been missing her too. Not that she really expected otherwise, but this is new territory for them, so she thinks it's natural if they both feel a bit...unmoored. 

Not that Peter ever feels unmoored, or, rather, not that he'd ever admit to it. He clings to his careless facade just a little too fiercely, she thinks, when she knows how mushy he is on the inside. 

"You ready for tomorrow?" he asks. 

"I think so. I was just picking out my first day of school outfit." 

Peter snickers. "First day of school outfit. You're so cheesy, Covey."

"It is important to make a good first impression!" 

"Yeah, well, you'd do that even if you were wearing a paper bag." Lara Jean blushes at the off-hand compliment. How is it even now Peter Kavinsky sends butterflies to her stomach?

"So. What is it?"

"What's what?"

"Your back to school outfit," he says. "Describe it in detail so I can picture you tomorrow."

"Ummmm...well," she says, biting her lip. "I'm thinking of going with my Peter Pan blouse, the one with the blue color, my dark pleated skirt, cream knee socks, and those black boots." 

"Wait, what? Absolutely not," Peter interjects. "Those boots? You've gotta be kidding me. And knee socks?"

"I thought you liked those boots!" 

"I do. And so will everybody else. You wear those knee socks and boots and all the college guys are gonna be hitting on you, and I can't have that." There's a teasing note to his voice, so Lara Jean smirks. 

"Sounds like somebody's insecure, Kavinsky."

" _Somebody_  just knows how lucky he is to have an insanely hot girlfriend," he flirts back. 

Lara Jean can't stop her grin. She sinks down onto the floor right outside her room. Softly, she says, "I wish you were here right now so I could kiss you."

It's bolder than she usually goes with talking about their physical relationship, but she’s a college girl, now. Maybe bold is the new black.

"God, Covey, you don't even know." 

\--

Professor Ramirez wears her hair in a haphazard ponytail and gives shit back to all the boys and has a laugh that just makes it seem like nothing else has ever really been truly funny until this moment; and Lara Jean thinks she might have a bit of a crush on her. Not a real crush, cause Lara Jean is very straight - or, well, she thinks she is, anyway; all signs have pointed that direction so far - but that kind of admiration where she wishes she could be her Intro to Feminism professor. 

The discussions they have in Intro to Feminism are by far the liveliest of all of Lara Jean's classes. Professor Ramirez really lets them have the floor, here, and the more outspoken kids often get into full out fights right in the middle of the classroom. Lara Jean, for her part, spends most of her time listening because, even though she has some half-formed opinions about all this, she's far more comfortable listening to the debates or her professor saying incredibly profound things with the nonchalance of a woman with true conviction. 

Things like, "In many ways, it will probably be more important for young men to consider themselves feminists than young women." 

That makes Lara Jean think. She would consider herself a feminist, especially after even just three weeks of this course. After all, she believes that women and men should be equal, but it's not a subject she's spoken with many other people about. Chris, she assumes, is a feminist, or feminist-leaning, and when she's old enough she's sure that Kitty will embrace feminism with aplomb. But what about the men in her life? Is Lucas a feminist? Her dad? 

Peter? 

She's still pondering this when they FaceTime later that night, and it's distracting enough that halfway through a story about one of his lacrosse teammates 'accidentally' egging the coach's car, Peter stops and says, "Okay, Covey, what's up with you?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm telling a hilarious story right now, and you're, like, on another planet."

She rolls her eyes. "You think all your stories are so hilarious."

"They are. I wouldn't tell them otherwise. What's on your mind, bae?"

Lara Jean bites her lip, not really sure how to ask the question on her mind. "Do you," she says finally, "do you think you're a feminist?"

Peter smiles at her affectionately. "That's what you're thinking about so hard? God, you are just the most adorable person ever." 

Lara Jean blushes and lies back, her hair spreading out around her on her pillow. "Well, do you?"

"Yeah," he says, sure. "I mean, I don't know a whole lot about the, like, details about it or whatever, but isn't the basic thing that we shouldn't be treating women like crap?"

Lara Jean laughs. "Something like that." 

"Then yeah. Seems like something we should all get behind."

"My intro the feminism professor says she thinks it's very important for young men to call themselves feminists."

"Why's that?"

Lara Jean considers. "I think... well, I mean, it's like with you. You're always around other boys, you know? And they like you and respect you, so if you tell them that they should be feminists, they might listen to you about that too. Definitely more than they'd listen to me anyway."

"Huh. I never thought of that. " He frowns, remembering something. "Do you think - do you think I should be doing that? Like, um, trying to talk to other guys about that stuff? Cause of my charm and popularity," he adds cheekily. 

"Well, with great power comes great responsibility, Peter Parker," she teases. 

\--

“You have to go!”

“That’s what Amy said.”

“And she’s right. Lara Jean, it’s college. You’re gonna have to go to a college party at some point,” Margots tells her over FaceTime. It’s a Friday night and the Asian Culture House is throwing what promises to be quite the banger. Amy Chan, one of Lara Jean’s fast college friends, had invited her, despite Lara Jean’s insistence that she ‘doesn’t do parties.’ “You used to go to parties with Peter all the time.”

“Yeah, but that was different,” she says, tossing herself back on her bed. Looks like Jenna hasn’t made it back from her last class yet; Lara Jean’s secretly thankful for the alone time. Not that there’s anything wrong with Jenna. It’s just jarring how mildly suffocating sharing a room can feel.

“How was it different?”

“There were people I could talk to there. Like Lucas.” And, well, she’d never admit it out loud, but the best part of high school parties was watching Peter across the room, his relaxed smile, how he’d catch her eye to make sure she was having a good time. It made going to those parties worth it, just for those little silent check-ins.

“You have Amy. And haven’t you met all those kids in the Korean Club?” Margot asks.

“Kind of…” Lara Jean admits begrudgingly.

Margot sighs. “Well, if you don’t want to go, then don’t, but remember college is for expanding your palette, meeting new people. You can’t just sit in your room and talk to Peter on the phone all night.”

Lara Jean rolls her eyes. “We don’t do that,” she says. “At least, not every night. Besides, he has fraternity stuff all weekend.”

It makes sense that Peter would end up in a fraternity, and the one he chose seems to suit him well - Sigma Chi, filled with, per his description, ‘a bunch of nice guys who are almost as cool and popular as me.’ She’d nearly thrown up when he’d told her that. Some things will never change.

“Perfect. Then you should have your own stuff!” Margot insists. “Come on, Lara Jean, just go to one party and if you don’t like it, never go to one again.”

Lara Jean worries her bottom lip, considering. If she’s honest with herself, college parties make her more than a little nervous. The amount of alcohol will probably triple from what was available in high school, and having to make small talk with all those people? Forget about it.

And yet… she will have Amy. And all the kids she’s met through the Asian Culture House have been really welcoming. And she is a college girl now.

Sitting up on the bed, she asks Margot, “But what will I wear?”

Margot squeals with excitement.

\--

Amy Chan is by far her most fun college friend. The daughter of a Senator and an artist, she’s a weird combination of savvy and responsible with a wild-child’s heart. Together, she and Lara Jean explore the ins and outs of Chapel Hill - attending art shows and concerts, charming their way into bars (charm is Amy’s speciality), eating 2am tacosas they hunker down to finish papers. Anything can turn into an adventure with Amy, which is why when she says, “I’ve got an idea. Let’s go,” Lara Jean usually agrees without questioning her.

Peter would like Amy, she thinks. They’ve got the same sunny spirit - both always determined to make any situation lighthearted. It was a quality that used to worry her in Peter, but she can only appreciate it now; after all, in all the strife of long-distance, Peter’s done his best to keep a grin on his face and, in turn, hers. And having Amy to rant to whenever she’s feeling uncertain or down really helps.

“Aw, LJ,” she says with the wisdom of a woman twenty years her senior, “it’s just life.”

Just life. What a concept.

One Saturday, Amy shows up at her dorm with a secret smirk, and Lara Jean knows this routine well enough by now to grab her keys and wallet and follow without questions.

They drive for about half a mile, Beyonce’s “Lemonde” album on full blast, until Amy turns into the parking lot of a rather run-down building with no distinct markings except for the neon sign that flashes, “Pink Pussy” repeatedly. Amy jumps out of the car with confidence.

“Uhhhh, okay, where are we exactly?” Lara Jean asks, following with some caution. “Is this a bar?”

Hovering at the door, Amy flashes her a wicked grin. “Oh, much better,” she insists and hurries inside. LJ follows, tentatively. Beyond a curtain of beads, various colorful objects line the shelves of the shop, though it’s hard to make out what the foreign objects are as she takes everything in. In the corner, on one of the highest shelves, a mannequin has been laid out on her side, decked out in a bright red corset and matching lace panties.

Oh. Oh.

Lara Jean stalks right over to Amy, grabbing her arm. “You brought me to a sex shop?” she hisses, the flush burning her cheeks. Amy giggles.

“Yes. Isn’t it exciting?! Look!”

Amy holds out the vibrator in her hand, a huge monstrosity of a thing that’s been designed to closely resemble a penis. Lara Jean can’t help the face she makes in response, startled most because, well, it’s not like she doesn’t know what a penis looks like; but she’s never actually seen one up close.

It’s…disconcerting.

Amy glances down at the vibrator with an easy laugh. “Okay, well, yeah, this is probably something to work up to, but look at all of these options!” She spreads out her hands to showcase the row of vibrators before them. There have to be at least thirty different kinds, many of them in bright pinks or purples, some with glitter handles. They’re rather pretty, now that she’s looking at them.

“We’re each getting one!” Amy declares, and Lara Jean’s admiration is broken, replaced instead by something akin to horror.

“What? No!” she protests.

“Every girl should have a vibrator,” Amy insists, taking several off of the shelves to more closely examine. “I mean, come on, LJ, especially you, with that long-distance boyfriend of yours. If you can’t get any from the lugs on campus, you should be able to get off somehow. This’ll help, I promise.”

“I don’t need any help,” Lara Jean says. “I mean…Peter and I…it’s not even like that.”

This admission stops Amy in her relentless quest for the perfect sex toy. Frowning in Lara Jean’s direction, she asks, “What do you mean it’s not like that?”

Lara Jean blushes. “We haven’t, um… We haven’t had sex yet.”

“Oh my god!” Amy exclaims, hitting her on the shoulder, hard. “Are you joking right now? You’ve never had sex?!”

At this exclamation, the sales guy behind the counter looks up from his phone, now mildly interested in the conversation these two customers are having. Lara Jean ducks her head down, embarrassed.

“No, we haven’t,” she whispers.

“Wow, you two really love each other,” Amy says, light admiration in her tone; Lara Jean can’t stop her smile. “But then what about that picture of him on your wall? The one where he’s, like, shirtless?”

Lara Jean rolls her eyes. “He picked that one out.”

“So, no sex. Like, ever?”

“We almost did once, but then it just kind of…never came up again.”

Amy tilts her head, thoughtful. “In that case, you’re absolutely getting a vibrator,” she says, as if it’s somehow a final decision.

“No, really, I’m okay.”

But Amy’s already looking up and down the shelves again, on the hunt for the perfect one. “Look, LJ, you’re here at college to become a woman, right? And one of the things that women do is take charge of their sexuality. Who knows if Peter will even be any good in bed? If you have the vibrator, you can figure out what you like and teach him how to do that for you. Aha!” She’s pulled out a box, smaller than most of the others, with a little vibrator on the package cover that reads “The Bullet.”

“I guess,” Lara Jean says. She declines to add what she’s really thinking: there’s no doubt in her mind that Peter will be good in bed.

“Perfect! We’re getting it,” Amy says, marching over to the counter. She pulls out her credit card despite Lara Jean’s protests and pays for the vibrator herself. The guy behind the counter gives Lara Jean a long look as he hands her the bag.

“She’s right you know,” he says, and Lara Jean’s grateful when Amy ushers them back to the car.

\--

Some arguments in Intro to Fem get heated, enough that Professor Ramirez will have to break them up and end discussion for the day. It’s always the topics that hit closest to home for people, especially those that leave the girls feeling vulnerable and the boys defensive. Today, it’s sexual assault, a subject that, in all honesty, Lara Jean’s never had much reason to think about too actively. But she did read about the Brock Turner case while it was happening, devastated at what that poor girl had to go through and angry, like most sane people seemed to be, that he wouldn’t receive the punishment he deserved. It’s that case that starts off the debate in class, too, after Professor Ramirez uses it as an example for the ways the system fails women.

It all spirals out of control when one of the boys asks about false accusations and Dana, one of the more passionate debaters in the class, goes off on him.

“Do you know how rare false accusations are?” she asks, and Lara Jean can see the way her hands are shaking from fury.

“I just don’t buy that so many women are getting raped. I mean, not like the Brock Turner guy did,” the boy whose name Lara Jean can’t recall fires back.

“Just because it doesn’t take place in an alley way doesn’t mean it’s not sexual assault,” Dana retorts. “I bet you half the girls here have experienced sexual assault in some form or another.”

Professor Ramirez ends the argument there, bringing the attention back to her original point, but it’s Dana’s words that stick with Lara Jean for the rest of the afternoon. Half the girls have experienced sexual assault. She wonders how true that might be; after all, it’s not something women have been given the space to talk about freely, and given how many of her Facebook friends came forward with their stories during the Brett Kavanaugh hearing this semester, it seems like the numbers might be worse than anyone imagined.

It kills something in her to know that might be true and that no one will do anything to stop it.

\--

Freshman aren’t allowed to have cars at UVA or UNC, which sucks when Peter calls her on Thursday to inform her that a) his practices are canceled for the weekend and that b) his roommate is headed out of town.

“What!” she says, collapsing onto one of the couches in the Asian Culture House. Vicki, a junior, laughs at her as she stirs a pot on the stove in the next room. “God, I’m jealous. Oh, to have a room all to one’s self!”

“Well, I was kind of wondering…you wanna come be my roomie for the weekend?” he asks, nervously. She can picture the way he’s most definitely running a hand through the front of his hair, that adorable nervous tic of his.

“Wait, what?” she asks as she registers his question. “You want me to come stay with you?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, sheepish. “I was thinking I could ask my mom to borrow the car and come get you. Make a little road trip out of it.”

Lara Jean frowns, biting her bottom lip. “Peter, that’s a lot of driving,” she says. “I mean, if you leave after class on Friday, you won’t get here til like nine - “

“Seven!” he interjects.

“You’re always late. I was being realistic. And then we have to drive back so we’ll sleep in on Saturday and really only have Saturday night together and then we’ll have to get up and head back here early so you have time to do your homework and stuff.”

“I’ll do all my homework before I come get you. And don’t worry about the driving,” he says. “Come on, please, Covey, I promise it’ll be okay.”

“Peter…” She bites her lip, a horrible feeling twisting in her stomach. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

A long silence stretches between them until Peter lets out a short, irritated sigh. “Fine. Whatever you say, Covey.”

“I’m really sorry, Peter. You know it’s not that I don’t want to!”

“Really? Cause honestly it seems like you don’t want to.”

She pauses, not having much of an answer to that. The knot in her stomach only gets tighter and she can feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Before she can form a coherent argument, Peter’s ending their conversation with a brusque, “Look, I gotta go to dinner. Have a good weekend.”

“Wait, Peter…”

But he’s hung up before she can get anything else out, and it’s not the first time he’s hung up on her but it still stings because it’s the first time she feels like she probably deserves it. What is her problem? He misses her; it’s obvious he misses her - and frankly, she misses him too, so what was she thinking, refusing an offer like that?

“Well, that was stupid,” Vicki says, echoing her thoughts. She leans against the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest and one knowing eyebrow raised. “I’ve seen pictures of that boy. If you don’t want to spend the weekend with him, I certainly will.”

“I’m sure Mabel would be thrilled about that,” Lara Jean mutters, teasingly, and, like magic, Mabel chooses that moment to walk into the kitchen, her short bob a new shade of bright blue than it was earlier than afternoon when she disappeared into the upstairs bathroom.

“Mabel would be thrilled about what?” she asks, hugging Vicki from behind.

“Wanna go spend a weekend with LJ’s hunky boyfriend?” Vick asks. Mabel raises her eyebrows suggestively.

“Sounds spicy. But isn’t that something LJ would rather do?”

“You’d think, but she just refused his offer.”

Lara Jean sinks further back into the couch, covering her face with her hands. It’s completely practical for her to turn down Peter’s offer - after all, she’s just thinking about his sanity! - but if she’s learned anything in the two and a half years they’ve been dating, it’s that true love doesn’t really seem to care that much for practicality. Plus, if she looks deep into her soul, she knows her refusal has very little to do with all the driving involved in his plan. It’s just that spending a whole weekend with Peter, alone? In his room? In his bed?

How’s she supposed to deal with that?

“Now why would you hurt that poor boy’s feelings?” Mabel asks.

Lara Jean takes a deep breath, stealing herself for honesty. “We’ve never - we’ve never slept together before. I mean, we’ve never even slept in the same bed together before.”

Mabel nods wisely, untangling herself from Vicki to sit next to Lara Jean on the couch. “Well…do you want to sleep with him? Just sleep or…something more?”

It’s something she’s been thinking about the longer they’ve been apart. Sometimes, walking across the quad to get to class, she can almost feel him next to her, like a ghost, hand in her back pocket, pulling on her ponytail. It’s those little physical touches that she aches for most of all, that made him feel real to her and not like some fairytale she dreamed up. Plus, she’s secretly very grateful to Amy for getting her the vibrator; she’s always been a girl fixated on fantasies, but with the Bullet in hand (literally), her fantasies have turned much more, well, grown up. Like Peter’s hands in places they’ve never gone before.

But there’s a difference between fantasy and reality.

“It’s just,” she says, sitting up fully on the couch. “I used to read all these books when I was in high school, romance novels, and that’s all I really know about sex, which is obviously like, not a great depiction of it. Or probably not, I wouldn’t know. But Peter does know and it just feels like…”

“Like it’s gonna be a disaster?” Mabel supplies knowingly. Lara Jean nods. “Well, it might be. But the first time is usually kind of…weird. It’s like the tenth time you really start to hit your stride.”

Lara Jean groans. “I’m gonna have to do it ten times before I get it right?”

“Maybe more.” Mabel tilts her head, an idea forming. “You know what you should do? Ditch your afternoon classes tomorrow and drive down there. No warning. It'll surprise the shit out of him and, bonus, be totally romantic." 

Lara Jean frowns. "Skip class? No way, I couldn't do that." 

Mabel rolls her eyes. "Of course you can! LJ, college isn't just about class and getting good grades. It's about taking risks and exploring yourself as a whole person," she says. "And sometimes that means ditching school work to make out with a cute boy. Or girl," she adds, grinning over at Vicki. 

Lara Jean bites her lip. "But I still don't have a car."

"Take mine," Vicki offers automatically. 

"You'd let me do that?" asks Lara Jean. 

"Anything in the name of true love," replies Vicki, deadpan. "There's only one condition, though: you don't have sex until you're totally ready and comfortable, okay? And if that means you don't have sex this weekend, well, Peter's just gonna have to deal with it. Yeah?"

Lara Jean smiles, considering. "Yeah."

\--

Lara Jean’s driving has improved significantly since she was junior, but on the trip to UVA she finds her hands nervous with sweat. She’s barely even texted Peter since their phone call last night, and she’s worried this is going to be a huge mistake, even turn into one of those blow out fights that usually causes them to break up.

At this point, she’s hoping they’re finished with the breaking up, at least for a while. She’s not sure if Peter will be someone she ends up building a whole life with - which Margot repeatedly insists is healthy considering how young they are - but she’s certain he’s someone she could spend a long time loving, at the very least. Something about him just feels like the puzzle piece her heart was missing, and she’d like to hang on to that feeling as long as possible.

Still, this whole long distance thing causes tension on occasion, especially when they’re both too busy to talk for several days in a row. It wears on Lara Jean’s heart, but in a way it appears to hit Peter harder. When they finally do have a moment to FaceTime after several days of distance, it takes a few minutes for his smile to seem as full as she remembers it.

And now she’s on the way to spend the weekend in his dorm room. Alone. Certainly territory they haven’t covered yet. What if it goes horribly? What if they run out of things to talk about? What if he wants to have sex, and she’s not ready yet? She grips the steering wheel so tightly her hands turn white as she considers the possibility of having sex with Peter. She told told Vicki she wouldn't have sex until she was good and ready but, well, that's just the problem, isn't it? How will she know she's ready for sex?

She still hasn’t landed on an answer when she pulls up to the UVA campus. It’s so much like UNC it almost feels like deja vu. Kids mill around the quad, some studying but most just hanging out, seeing as it’s Friday afternoon. The Frisbee team practices in a far corner, running up and down the field in a scrimmage.

It’s some odd kind of serendipity that one of the first people Lara Jean sees as she pulls the car into a parking space is Peter, sitting at one of the picnic tables with what she can only assume are other lacrosse players. His hair has grown out throughout the semester, and he’s looking adorably comfortable in the blue sweater his mom got him for his birthday. She wants to run over and tackle him to the ground, but she’s worried about embarrassing him in front of his friends.

Before she can come up with a better plan of attack, her phone buzzes with a text. It’s from Peter.

_‘Coveeeeey’_

She glances up at him to check whether he’s noticed her standing in front of Mabel’s car, but he’s buried deep in his phone, ignoring whatever conversation his friends are having. She smirks, quickly typing back a reply.

_‘What’s up Peter K?’_

_‘nm what’re you up to?_

Her grins stakes claim over her whole face, giddy.

_‘just admiring how adorable you are. nice sweater, by the way.’_

She watches in delight as Peter reads the text then does a double take, thrown off. As the implication of her message dawns on him, he looks wildly around the quad until his eyes land on her twenty feet away, still waiting by Mabel’s car. A grin brighter than the sun appears on his face, and before she can even wave, he’s up out of his seat and quite literally sprinting toward her, unconcerned what anyone might think of him. By way of greeting, he lifts her up and kisses her deeply, like it’s been years instead of months. She’s happy to report that their mouths remember one another and also that Peter’s kissing is as stellar as ever. If she were a more generous person, she’d insist that everyone kiss Peter Kavinsky because it’s like some sort of art form for him.

He’s still holding her up, her legs wrapped around his waist, when he pulls away long enough to ask, “What’re you doing here? I thought - “

“I was being dumb,” she admits. “I’m hoping surprising you makes up for it?”

Peter lets her back down to the ground, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I really missed you,” he admits. 

She wants to say something crazy romantic, like how she’s felt like half of her was being held hostage while they were apart but all she can get out in response is, “I really missed you, too.” It’s more than enough for Peter, though, judging by the way he pushes her up against the side of the car to kiss her again.

He doesn’t stop when his friends start wolf-whistling at them. He just flips them off and keeps kissing her.

\--

She’s gotten better at parties, but it still feels good to have Peter there with her, playing beer pong across the basement of Sigma Chi as she stands around with a group of girls whose names she forgot as soon as she heard them. The tall blonde one (Veronica?) is asking her questions that feel a little less-than-friendly.

“So you’re Lana Jean, right?” she says, her bright smile strained across her face.

“Actually, it’s Lara Jean,” she corrects her, offering a half smile of her own.

“Oh, oh my gosh, sorry. What a weird little name,” Veronica responds, which, well, Lara Jean just doesn’t have a response to that. Turns out she doesn’t need one though because in that same moment, another girl appears next to her to interject.

“Oh, shove it, Veronica, we all know you’ve got a stupid crush on Peter and that he’s never gonna give you the time of day because Lara Jean is twelve times the woman you’ll ever be. Now, shoo.”

Offended, Veronica tosses her hair and turns on her heel to head upstairs, muttering something about getting another drink. Lara Jean turns to thank the new girl, who is possibly the coolest person she’s ever seen up close. Multi-colored braids, a ‘Black Girl Magic’ crop top, high-waisted jeans, and combat books - she looks like the type of girl Lara Jean would love to be friends with but would always feel too intimidated to talk to.

Yet here she is, sticking her hand out to introduced herself. “I’m Magz,” she says brightly.

“Lara Jean,” she responds, reaching out her hand for a shake. “Thanks for that.”

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry about Veronica. She’ll figure out herself one day, I’m sure, but for now she’s a real piece of work.”

Peter looks over towards them and interrupts his beer pong game at the sight of the two girls talking. He rushes over with an excited, “Magz!” and envelops her in a bear hug. When they break apart, he turns to Lara Jean. “Magz is the only thing that keeps the guys in line around here.”

“Well, I’m trying anyway. Honestly, Peter, if it wasn’t for you, I think I’d give up on you all.”

Peter grins, pleased. “Nahhh, they’re all good guys, Just…”

“Idiots?” Magz asks sardonically. Lara Jean rolls her eyes.

“I hate when boys say that,” she says. “Why is it when you all do dumb stuff, you’re just being boys but when we do dumb stuff we have to take responsibility?”

There’s the briefest moment of silence as both Magz and Peter register what she’s just said. Then Magz barks out a laugh and raises her hand for a hive five. Peter, for his part, is giving her this unreadable look she’s come to know as, “We’re in public so I won’t kiss you right now but I’m thinking really hard about it.”

“Damn, Lara Jean,” Magz says, impressed. “You’re even cooler than Peter described in the hundreds of stories he’s told about you.”

Peter blushes furiously. “She’s exaggerating.”

Lara Jean smirks. She gets to see Peter flustered so infrequently, it’s important to seize the few moments she gets. “Awwww, you’re obsessed with me! Lucky me. The great and mighty Peter Kavinsky is obsessed with me.” She and Magz giggle mercilessly.

“I’m not - you know what, I don’t have to take this. I’m going back to my game,” Peter huffs, good-natured. “You take care of my girl, Magz,” he says, and Magz slings an arm over Lara Jean’s shoulder.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Petey-boy.” To Lara Jean, she says, “It looks like you need another drink.”

\--

She spends most of the night talking to Magz about anything and everything under the sun. Magz grew up an army brat and had consequently spent most of her childhood traveling and rebelling against her strict military parents. Now at UVA, she’d gotten really involved with the Women’s Group and was thinking of majoring in sociology.

“I kind of want to be a community organizer though,” she says thoughtfully.

“That’s what Obama did before he got into politics,” Lara Jean says, and Magz nods, pleased.

“Exactly,” she says. “What about you? Have you started thinking about a major yet?”

“Not really. I love my Intro to Feminism class, but I’m not sure I’d want to make a career out of that or major in it. But I do like thinking about that stuff.”

“Me too! It’s crazy learning that - well, learning that you aren’t actually crazy, you know?”

It’s a funny way to put it, but the words are precisely what Lara Jean didn’t know she was trying to articulate. Intro to Feminism has not only opened her eyes up to some very real tragedies in the world but also begun to give her assurance that her experiences as a woman, and as an Korean-American woman, are legitimate.

It’s more than a little gratifying, especially hearing someone else articulate the same thought.

She’s a little sad when Peter drags her back to his dorm. She’d been having such a good time just talking to Magz that she almost wants the night to continue a few hours longer.

And then there’s, well, there’s the whole dorm situation.

Peter’s dorm is nice, larger than her room at UNC but lacking the obvious homey touches Lara Jean’s added to her space. Her eyes instantly fall on the scrapbook, prominently displayed on his desk for all visitors to see. She runs her fingers over the cover as Peter takes his jacket off and makes himself more comfortable, sprawling out over the bed.

“You wanna watch something?” he asks, breezily. His easy nature is so irritating at times like this, when her breath is shallow from nerves - or is that anticipation? - at being alone with him here all night. She hesitates at the edge of his bed, jacket still zipped up around her, until he slides over right in front of her, taking her hands between his.

“Covey?” he asks, his eyes so full of concern that she thinks, ‘ _Well, now or never, right?’_ and lurches forward to pull him into a deep kiss, the kind that might end in her just devouring him whole. He stills at first in surprise, but eventually he kisses her back with equal fervor, hands working their way into her hair. He tugs her forward until she’s straddling him, his right hand sliding down the side of her body to tease at the skin just under her shirt. A thrill hums in her chest as she rolls her hips down against his, and he elicits a throaty, “Lara Jean.” Just for kicks, she tries it once more and is rewarded with Peter’s hand traveling all the way up her shirt.

For all her nerves, she didn’t except to find this so…exhilarating.

Since Peter’s being whishy-washy about it, she takes her shirt off herself, throwing it and her jacket in the corner of his room. He moans, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her neck. She moans back at him when he stops just before reaching her bra. She might explode if he doesn’t start touching her somewhere else.

Frustratingly, he pulls back, hands settled on her ribs just below her breasts. He barely meets her eyes as he looks up at her, biting his lip, but she can feel how hard he is through his jeans, can see how wide his eyes are dilated. He wants this… doesn’t he?

 _‘Oh god, what if he doesn’t?’_ some small, terrified voice in her head asks, on high alarm. She’s frozen in his lap at the thought that, after all this time, perhaps he wanted her to visit so he could break up with her. She’s never even had sex, after all, and there’s no way it’s gonna be good between them.

Except he’s kissing that space between her neck and her collarbone, and she can feel something pooling between her legs that she’s only ever gotten glimpses of before, reading the especially dirty parts of her romance novels or watching the love scenes in movies.

Peter kisses her for a few minutes more before murmuring softly, “Can we stop?”

“Um, sure,” she says. Clumsily, she scoots off of him. She can’t help glancing down at his lap, confirming for herself that, yes, in fact, he was hard, but then she catches his eye and has to look anywhere else as he laughs, a little embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she says, grateful that her blush is muted in the dim lighting.

Peter frowns, bewildered. “Oh, uh, you don’t have to be sorry,” he says. “It wasn’t - “

“Did you wanna - ?” she starts simultaneously but cuts herself off when she realizes he had more to say. “Sorry. You go.”

Peter shakes his head. “No, uh, it wasn’t really anything. What were you gonna say?”

The anxiety so plainly written on his face is something she rarely sees from him, and it occurs to her that, well, if they’re going to be in a real, adult relationship, they have to get used to talking about things like sex and why they are or are not having it. So with a deep breath, she asks, “Did I do something wrong?”

“What?” Peter asks, flabbergasted. “Of course not. What would you have done wrong?”

Lara Jean bites her lip. “It’s just, uh… I mean, you don’t want to…?” She glances at the bed for emphasis. “I just figured, since we’re alone all weekend, that’s what you wanted to do.”

Peter chuckles, softly at first, but quickly he’s laughing this huge belly laugh, as if he’s truly surprised by what she’s said. Lara Jean’s blush deepens, this time from quickly rising humiliation.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she demands, hurt, and Peter settles himself as quickly as he can, standing up to put his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he promises, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’m laughing at myself. Cause, like, honestly, Covey? I didn’t even think of that.”

“What?” she asks incredulously.

Peter rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t thinking about it. I just wanted you to come because I missed you, and I wanted to like…cuddle with you and all that stuff. And kiss you, obviously. But sex…I mean, we’ve never really, like, talked about it, so I had no idea that you were gonna like try to jump me. Guess I should’ve gotten used to that by now, huh?”

Lara Jean shoves him lightly on the shoulder, and he laughs. “Seriously,” she says, studying his face. “You didn’t think about it at all?”

He scratches the back of his head, shrugging. “Trust me, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it. I’ve thought about it a lot. But. I’m not in any kind of rush, Covey. I just like being with you.” Biting his lip, he adds, “Honestly, if you told me you never wanted to have sex, I’d be disappointed, but I’d also be down with it. For you.”

Lara Jean grins brightly. “Really?”

“Duh,” Peter says. “I’m kind of in love with you.”

All she can do in response is take his face gently between her hands and smooth his curls out of his eyes. If only "I love you" were enough to describe her feelings, but the words always seem to fall short of the real thing, the calm she feels wash over her when she sees him across a room, like she could fall asleep next to him forever and pay no mind to everything she was missing out on. 

"Well," she says finally because they can't go on staring at each other like that forever. "I...I  _am_ interested. In, um. Having sex. With you. But," she adds quickly, "I think maybe I need more time to, um, think about it more first." 

Peter grins. "That's cool cause, uh, honestly I don't have any condoms, so..." 

She shakes her head at him. "I can't believe you didn't think about this at all," she says. "It's all I thought about the entire time I was driving here!" 

He leads her over towards the bed, reaching over to grab her shirt for her. "Wow, you're really just so hot for me," he teases her, laughing as she smacks him in the arm and chastises, "Peter!" in outrage. He takes her hand in his and leans in for a kiss. Parting his mouth against hers, he slides his tongue over her lips, and she's only partially embarrassed at the moan that escapes from her. Pulling back ever-so-slightly, Peter murmurs, "I could, uh, I mean, there are other things I could do for you, you know, without a condom. If you'd want that." 

If it weren't for the slight waver of nerves in his eyes, Lara Jean would have had to laugh at him for his attempt to be smooth, but instead she just blushes, biting her lips to keep from exploding. "I could definitely be open to that idea, yes," she says, and then Peter's shirt is thrown to the floor alongside hers, and that's the last thing she has to say for quite a while. 

 


End file.
